


When Comes a Foe

by james



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenkins doesn't fight anymore.  One day, he'll have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Comes a Foe

For all that his goal – his life's quest, really – was to seek out and destroy this man (this monster), he wasn't actually expecting to come upon him on this field. No matter, he's here and he will do his duty.

He draws his sword as best he can, for his shoulder is still wrapped in bandages and he suspects the wound is still bleeding. He'd come across a group of travelers just that morning, beset by brigands and robbers and naturally he'd leapt to defend them. He would have been out-numbered but – well, he is who he is and he defeated them, though not without paying a price. He'd hoped to ride south a bit to a quiet village he knows and stay awhile at the inn there until his shoulder was healed.

But he was standing not a stone's throw from _him._

He held his sword out and the other just smiled. "And what, pray tell, have I done today that you seek to attack me for?"

"I heard about the village," he said. Just the latest in a long line of crimes he'd been unable to prevent, unable to save so many innocent lives because _he_ still walked the earth free. 

An eyebrow went up. "Village? Now, you'll have to be more specific, I travel a great deal, you know, and I've been through many a town and village." The smile grew, cold and chilling for all that one who did not know would call charming and innocent.

"Last year, the one you burned to the ground after killing every able-bodied man in it. Did you even mean to let the women and children escape?" He tightened his grip with his right hand, trying to hold the entire weight of his sword with it. He knew – for absolute fact he knew he could not win this fight. Not today, not with his shoulder as it was. But fighting this man – defeating this monster that walked on two legs and called itself by human names – was the only reason he himself walked the world at all. He took a deep breath and steadied his heart, if he could not steady his hand.

The other shrugged, twisting his mouth into a half-frown. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. It doesn't sound like me, of course, letting anyone escape? Normally you accuse me of far worse than killing a few young men – which, I must say, the world could do with rather fewer of." 

He gripped his sword, trying to hold the tip steady. "Draw your sword and we shall have this out once and for all."

The other's gaze flickered, then, glancing down to his hands, wrapped around the pommel of his sword. Then he looked back up, and there was something in his eyes, for only a moment. Then he shrugged. "As much as I would love to fight you to the death, again, I really do not have time just now. But I absolutely look forward to seeing you later." He tilted his head in a nod, then vanished.

He dropped his sword, shoulder burning with the effort of holding his weapon steady. He could feel his heart pounding and his shoulder felt as though it were on fire. No doubt it was bleeding freely and he would have to get it seen to. 

He wouldn't have been able to deal a single blow, not without fairly knocking himself to the ground and leaving himself wide open for killing. Now, he stood in place and just breathed until he had strength enough to gather his horse's lead and somehow managed to pull himself into the saddle and ride away.

~~  


The Annex was quiet, just the way he preferred. He'd been here for a handful of years and he had found this place to be exactly what he wanted. No one came here, not even the Librarian. Jenkins occasionally spoke to him over the phone -- which was, in his opinion, exactly the best use of the telephone and the perfect reason for it to have been invented.

Otherwise he was left to do his research, busy himself with books and papers and the dark corners of the tiny annex he called home. It wast not precisely the escape from his memories that he might have wanted, but he knew that in time they would fade on their own. 

Jenkins spent the entirety of his days inside amongst the bookshelves, speaking aloud to himself and any shadows which wished to listen in. He lost himself as best he could in the dust, focusing only on the things which the Main Library sent along, things not important or interesting enough to warrant being kept under the safety of the Main Library. That suited him well, for there was no pressure to solve a mystery or worry over keeping something safe from the evils of the world.

He puttered and read and experimented, and when he sat alone at his small table and drank tea with dinner, he let himself think of the world outside and marveled over each new invention, and carefully did not read the newspaper articles that spoke of horrors and blood that need not have been shed.

~~~

Loud voices echoed through the Annex and Jenkins felt much like tying each one of them up and slapping tape over their mouths. Duct tape, another marvelous invention that he felt did not get the accolades it deserved. (Did modern people not realize just how astounding the stuff was, how useful it would have been even when magic ran wild across the land? There was a treatise just waiting to be written on it, and Jenkins had planned to do just that before his entire life got turned upside-down.)

He watched them – the baby Librarians, mere children, all of them, running about, shouting questions at one another and hollering even more loudly with the answers. Another mystery to be solved and they moved with such urgency and fire that Jenkins just wanted to sit and close his eyes. They were so terribly young, burning with the passions and naivete that only came with youth.

He couldn't remember being that young – he didn't even know if he _had_ been young, could not remember that far back. It was for the best, he knew, otherwise his mind would have been crushed by the weight of a thousand (or more) years.

Jenkins didn't even know how old he was, only that he felt as though he had always been here, roaming the world in search of the one man he had sworn to kill. Until, of course, he'd forsaken that duty, run away to hide and be free of it all, only to be found and dragged back into it by loud, rampaging children who needed supervision and guidance, none of which he cared to give.

Even their Guardian needed an adult at times, telling her not to touch and don't run indoors and stop shooting the thing that can't be killed. Jenkins absolutely does not want to be that adult, does not care if they get themselves killed or locked in a cave somewhere for nine hundred years or if they burn his Annex to – well, no, he doesn't want them to burn his Annex down, because he doesn't want to move.

But he would like it if they could find the Main Library and go bother Judson and leave him alone.

~~~

_Jenkins is tired, deep down in his bones every morning when he wakes, he can feel it. The pull of gravity – or something not quite – pulling at him and whispering to lie back down again and do not get up again. Before, the promise of silence and study had driven him out of bed; now he cannot even fathom what it is that drives him each day, other than perhaps the urge to strangle the children invading his home._

_And then he is there, smiling at him, threatening to destroy everything that Jenkins knows is held dear by the Library, by the Librarian, by all those who fight for good and justice and peace in the world._

_He is waltzing back into his life, threatening to destroy all the illusions he has built to hide among, and Jenkins does not know if he is ready to fight again. He knows – of course he knows – that he must, and when the day comes, he will take up his sword again. He will fight, if only because he cannot do anything else._

_But he is so tired and the promise of escape is tucked deep inside his heart where even he cannot look at it too closely. Perhaps one day these children will take it upon themselves, he thinks, as he watches the other drive away. Perhaps one day someone else will hold the sword and Jenkins can close his eyes and rest._

_Until Dulaque is defeated, there will be nonesuch, and Jenkins feels the weight of armor, like memories, settle upon his back. He does not wear a sword, duels are not fought like that anymore. Instead he has his words, and his knowledge, and he has four children running around his home, to guide and protect and teach._

_If he does not strangle them all himself, first._


End file.
